


Say Something Loving

by DirtyBrian, perfectlyrose



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Regeneration Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 00:47:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11543931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyBrian/pseuds/DirtyBrian, https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfectlyrose/pseuds/perfectlyrose
Summary: In the throes of their regeneration, the Doctor is visited by the one person that their hearts will always recognize.





	Say Something Loving

Regeneration energy crackles through their veins;  the pain, both inevitable and debilitating, drives them to their knees. The TARDIS sings distantly in their mind as they lie, curled in a ball on the grating. The ship sends soothing vibes, assuring them that everything is normal and that the regeneration will be over soon. It’s only been a few seconds, but when one’s cells are ripping themselves apart, it doesn’t matter.

(They  haven’t  had a regeneration this painful in a long time, not since Wilf and the reactor and the Ood. They don’t linger on this fact- those memories are more painful than the regeneration)

“Doctor.”

The Doctor doesn’t open their eyes, doesn’t acknowledge the soft voice. They can’t- can’t deal with this on top of everything else. The voice has other ideas.

“Doctor, look at me, love.”

Rose is there. Her hand is on the Doctor’s shoulder, and they open their eyes with a gasp. In an instant, the pain is but a memory, something wholly unimportant when compared to the human kneeling in front of them.

This body is new- they have no idea what it’s like or how it works, but Rose’s touch is so achingly familiar that it’s insignificant. Any version of the Doctor would know Rose, will know Rose. 

She’s dressed differently than when the Doctor last saw her, when she’d been left on a beach in Norway all those years ago. She’s a bit older, a little wiser. She blushes, and the Doctor realizes they’ve been staring.

“What are you doing here?”

(It’s not the question the Doctor means to ask. They mean to ask how long Rose is going to stay with them, if there’s still a possible forever...if she still loves them, if she will still hold their hand now that they’re different.)

They know the answer to the last question, at least- Rose is looking at them with a mixture of worry and love, and their fingers are already intertwined. But still, the question they did ask aloud is one they need answered, despite not meaning to ask it...and Rose hasn’t said a word in reply.

“Rose?” Their voice sounds  _ odd _ , all new and untested but the name still feels so right.

“I’m always here,” she says, smiling even though there’s a note of sadness hidden in her words. She ghosts the pad of her thumb over the Doctor’s temple before tracing downwards to rest her hand in between their hearts.

The Doctor coughs, lungs still not fully functioning, most things still not fully functioning if they’re being honest. Gods, but they hate regenerating, hate the violence of their body ripping itself apart and then binding back together.

It’s always worse when it gets put off- and they’d put it off for a long time this go-round.

Maybe,  _ maybe _ , they’d been subconsciously waiting on something, on someone -- waiting on Rose. Because Rose is  _ here  _ and holding their hand and helping them through yet another regeneration and she is always worth waiting for.

“You’re not though,” the Doctor says once their breath is steady again. “You’ve been gone for so long.”

Rose tightens her grip. “Here now though, right? That’s what matters.”

The Doctor smiles up at her. It occurs that they have no inkling of what their smile looks like, of what  _ they  _ look like. Rose seems okay with whatever it is though, so it must be alright.

Rose’s smile is exactly as they remember  -- bright and tender. If they weren’t trying so hard to just breathe and smile and stare, they could likely  list all the times they’d seen it before.

(They think it’s been centuries since they’ve seen it anywhere other than a memory but everything is a bit hazy still, so they can’t be sure.)

(Rose is right, all that matters is that she’s here right now.)

A surge of pain rips through the Doctor, and they cry out softly and grip Rose’s fingers. They want to apologize, surely they’re hurting Rose, but they can’t get anything else out through the fire in their veins. 

“Doctor, love, it’s going to be all right, you’re going to be all right-- it’s almost over.” Her voice is soft; she whispers in the Doctor’s ear and pulls their shaking form close. She’s warm and solid and  _ there _ , and despite the pain, the Doctor can’t help but relax into her embrace.

“Missed you,” they grind out, tilting their head to bury her face in Rose’s shoulder. Oh gods, she can smell Rose- the perfume she wears and her shampoo and a scent that’s all her.

“I missed you too, my Doctor.” She nuzzles into the Doctor’s hair. “Missed you so much.”

“Rose, I-” The words catch on their tongue. It seems...so important to say them, so crucial that they get the words out now, though they can’t place why. Surely they’ve told Rose before- how could they not?

“Rose,” they whisper, pulling her closer. “Rose, I lo-”

The Doctor sits up with a gasp, muscles screaming with disuse. Rose isn’t anywhere in sight. 

( _ Why am I alone, where’s Rose, I need Rose, please no bring her back.) _

The TARDIS sings softly, apologetically and at once the Doctor understands. Their ship...this magnificent, glorious ship had helped their mind heal, had distracted them from the pain of regeneration. Rose isn’t there. She never had been. It had all been a beautiful, agonizing fever dream.

They are alone. Again.

(The words are still stuck in their throat.)


End file.
